


What Friends Are For

by zelda_zee



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_zee/pseuds/zelda_zee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC and Lance meet at the Life Ball in Vienna, 2007. Lance decides JC could use some sun. And maybe some sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Are For

It was in the dressing room after the fashion show that Lance told JC about his crazy idea.

“Screw it, Chasez, we should just go. You need it, man, just look at you.”

“I look fine,” JC protested half-heartedly, peering unhappily into the mirror and scrubbing at the dark eyeliner with a cotton ball. He was still in the boring white suit he’d worn on the catwalk and Lance just wanted to tear it off of him, because yeah, boring. Also, he just wanted to tear it off of him.

He himself was still wearing his fabulous outfit because it was fabulous and he knew it made him look totally hot. Truly, was there anything in the world better than sparkly paisley? No, there was not.

“I rest my case,” said Lance. “The JC I know would not be satisfied with looking fine. The JC I know was only satisfied if he was looking _fiiiine_. You’re off your game, my friend.”

JC rolled his eyes. “I can’t go. I want to, but I can’t. I’ve got,” he waved his hands around in the air. “meetings ‘n shit.”

“C,” Lance said, his voice serious now. He tugged at the sleeve of JC’s boring suit until he looked at him, the dark smears of makeup beneath his eyes making them look a startling shade of blue. Alien eyes, Lance thought, which he knew was a bit of the pot and kettle. “You need a break, man. Need to get away.” JC looked pale and pinched and stressed and this was in the middle of an evening that was supposed to be wild, crazy fun. He couldn’t imagine how he’d look on a normal day. He tugged on JC’s sleeve again. “Let me do this for you. It’ll be great, just you and me, no pressure, no worries. No one’ll even know who we are.”

JC smiled at that. “Everyone knows who we are,” he said a little sadly.

“No, they don’t.” Lance smiled, but kept it toned down. He knew if he really let it go his smile was kinda out of control and tended to make people take a step back. C was used to it, but still. “It just seems that way sometimes.”

In the end, JC acquiesced, because Lance got him drunk on cinnamon schnapps and wouldn’t let up on him until he agreed. And in the morning, when he stopped by JC’s hotel room with the tickets in his hand, it was too late for JC to do anything about it and anyway, he was too polite to back out now and, Lance was guessing, too hungover as well.

“Shit, you didn’t even get laid?” Lance asked, eyeing JC’s big bed, all neat and tidy except the little bit JC had slept in. “You are definitely losing your touch, Chasez.”

“Oh, and I suppose you did?” JC croaked. Lance thought he was trying to sound sarcastic, but it came out more like petulant.

“Of course I did. Good Lord, if I couldn’t get laid last night – well, actually there really isn’t a night I couldn’t get laid if I wanted, but the fact is that I _did_ get laid twice, thank you very much. Could’ve made it three times too, except the schnapps made me sleepy. You okay, C?” JC was looking a little gray.

“Mmm. I need coffee. And aspirin. And a new head.”

Lance dialed room service, ordered coffee and toast, then found the bottle of aspirin on the bathroom counter and brought it, along with a glass of water.

“Did you really get laid twice last night?” JC asked as Lance shook out a couple aspirins into his palm. “After I left you?” JC had gone to bed at about two.

Lance tried not to smirk. “Yeah, twice. Five guys though.” JC’s eyes widened. “Life’s good once you’re out C, what can I say? You should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, ‘cept you’re forgetting again, Lance. I am _not gay_.”

Lance tilted his head and gave JC a thoughtful look. “Oh, yeah. You know, I just can’t seem to get that through my head. I wonder why that is?”

JC was mumbling something about wishful thinking when Lance left to answer the door. He reappeared in a moment, carrying a tray.

“Breakfast!” he announced cheerily. “Don’t dawdle. We leave in an hour.”

JC looked at him in shock. “An hour! Lance, no way. I can’t – not in – c’mon dude, that’s just not cool.”

“An hour, Chasez,” Lance repeated as he headed out the door. “Don’t be late!”

*

They really left in an hour and a half, because Lance was factoring in Chasez-time, and a good thing too, as JC took every second of it. He emerged from the hotel and climbed into the limo, still looking too pale and too skinny. Lance resolved to feed JC lots of ice cream while they were on this little jaunt. Preferably with himself as the dish.

“What?” asked JC.

“You look totally preppy,” sighed Lance. “JC, that is the most boring gay look possible.” Blue button-down shirt and trousers that looked almost like they might possibly be khakis. Lance shook his head. It was just wrong. JC should be wearing bright, clingy, sparkly clothes.

“I am not trying to look gay,” JC snapped.

“Well then you’re failing miserably.” Lance looked at JC and JC looked back and Lance was tempted to go for a stare-off. It had been a really long time since he and JC had held a stare-off. “What look _are_ you going for lately?”

“I dunno. I guess… adult? Don’t give me a hard time, Lance. I feel like shit.” JC leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Lance watched him for a minute, feeling kind of bad for him. Things hadn’t been going so good for C lately, with the record and the rumors and stuff and he really was so guileless, he just didn’t deserve it. “Poor baby,” Lance cooed, sliding over beside him. “C’mere.” He steered JC back against his chest so he could rub his temples, his fingers making slow, soothing circles. JC made a little noise and relaxed back onto his shoulder. They were quiet for a few minutes as the limo carried them away from the city limits.

“Remember on the bus?” JC murmured. Lance waited for JC to be more specific. There was a _lot_ of stuff that had happened on various buses over the years.

“Remember what?” he prompted, when it became apparent nothing more was forthcoming.

JC waved a hand vaguely in front of him. “Everything.”

“Yeah,” said Lance. “I remember.”

JC was quiet for a moment. “I miss that.”

“Yeah.” Lance breathed in the appley scent of JC’s hair. “Me too.”

*

The bungalow Lance had rented was tucked away in a cove a few miles from Playa del Ingles and had a wide sandy beach stretching down to the water. “But we still might want to check out the beach in town,” Lance said, waggling his eyebrows. “Just to… you know… compare them.”

“You go,” said JC. “This’s good enough for me.” And it was just about as beautiful as it could be, with the sea and the sky vying for which could project the deepest shade of turquoise and the white sand beach stretching in either direction as far as the eye could see. “You know,” he said, “I live in L.A. and I never even go to the beach.”

“You’ve got the Orlando house for that,” said Lance, pulling off his shirt.

“Yeah,” sighed JC. “But I’m never there.”

“Well, you’re here now, and there’s not much else to do, so you can get in plenty of beach time.” Lance stepped out of his jeans and briefs and left them on the floor, heading out to the deck.

“Lance!” JC cried. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m going for a swim,” Lance called back.

JC bounded out onto the deck behind him. “But you’re naked!”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.” He shook his ass at JC and ran down the stairs, giggling. “C’mon Chasez, don’t be a pussy!” He called out over his shoulder as he sprinted for the waves.

When he returned, already mostly dry just from the walk back over the beach, JC was sitting on a lounge chair in his board shorts, reading.

"Don't you worry about paparazzi?" JC asked.

"Not particularly." Lance held his arms out from his body and turned in a slow circle. "I've got nothing to hide."

"Yes, I can see that," muttered JC, staring at his book.

"What're you reading?" asked Lance, taking the book from JC and looking at the cover. " _God Is Not Great_. Really? On vacation?”

“I’m interested in spiritual matters,” said JC, his eyes drifting down to Lance’s cock.

Lance flung himself onto a lounge chair beside JC, opened to a random page and began reading.

“ _Monotheistic religion is a plagiarism of a plagiarism of a hearsay of a hearsay, of an illusion of an illusion, extending all the way back to a fabrication of a few nonevents._ ” He looked at JC. “C, this is not a suitable book for vacation reading. I’m going to put my foot down here.”

“It’s a good book, Lance. I realize you might find it offensive –”

“I’m not offended.” Lance leaned forward and handed the book back to JC. “We’re here to have a good time, relax, loosen up. Reading an atheist manifesto just doesn’t seem like a very good time to me.”

“I’m trying to make some important decisions,” said JC.

“You’re trying to decide if God exists?”

“Well, yeah. Among other things.” Lance watched JC watch his cock while pretending not to. If he was lucky, maybe his cock would get to help JC decide something important. That sounded like a very good time to Lance.

“Let’s go eat,” said Lance. “I’m starving.”

“Are you going to get dressed first?” asked JC.

Lance shot him a look. “Yes, I’ll get dressed.”

“Then okay.”

They ate in a palapa on the beach. JC tried to order a salad, but Lance countermanded it and ordered them both the local fish specialty and a selection of tapas.

“But I can’t eat all this,” complained JC, when the server brought their dinner.

“Try,” said Lance. “You’re too skinny.”

“I’ve always been skinny. Skinny looks good on me.” But he dug into the fish anyway, and the papas con mojo, and the tortilla and the albondingas and the calamari and the rabbit terrine and the cheese plate and the shrimp with garlic.

“Everything looks good on you, C. But you’re still too skinny.”

“Lance,” JC said, waving a piece of calamari at him, the tentacles quivering ominously. Lance thought calamari was disgusting. He’d only ordered it for JC. “You don’t like my clothes, you don’t like my choice of reading material, you don’t like the way I eat and you don’t like the way I look. Could you just… Is there anything about me you _do_ like?”

“Sure there is.” Lance took a sip of his mojito. “I like _you_.” He smiled. “You know that, don’t you?”

JC nodded. His mouth was too full of tentacley squid to speak.

“I want you to be happy, babe. I don’t like seeing you down. Sorry if it makes me bossy.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s meant well.” JC picked up an even bigger, even more tentacley piece of calamari. Lance tried not to shudder. “I kind of like it.” He washed the squid down with a gulp of mojito. He’d really perked up after the second one. Lance should have fed him some hair of the dog hours ago. “I get sick of not having anyone to boss me around.”

“JC, you’ve got a whole staff who’re paid to do that. Not to mention any one of _us_. Anytime you’re in the mood for bossin’, just call me. Or if you _really_ want to be bossed, call Justin.”

“I do not want to be bossed by Justin,” JC averred. “Or any of the rest of them. Except, maybe you. Once in a while.” He grinned. His cheeks were a bit flushed, but that could just be from the sun. Lance made a mental note - tomorrow, sunscreen.

“Oh, I could boss you around, baby,” Lance purred. “I could boss you _real_ good.” He could, too. He’d thought about it often enough.

JC blushed a really lovely shade of crimson. Good Lord, Lance thought. What kind of 30-year-old guy blushes like a schoolgirl at a little come on? No wonder JC didn’t get laid at the Life Ball.

“Um. Lance. I don’t think. Um.”

“Shut up, C,” Lance said, chuckling. “Eat your meatballs.”

*

Lance had gotten up, gone for a swim, driven into town, bought groceries and liquor, turned down a blowjob from a really cute guy, come back and eaten breakfast and was halfway through the New York Times when JC decided to make an appearance.

“Is there coffee?” mumbled JC, rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning to you too,” said Lance. “There _was_ coffee. I’ll make some more.” He got up and measured out coffee and water and turned on the machine. “You want a smoothie?”

“Mm-mm. Later.” JC flipped through the stack of trashy celebrity mags that Lance had picked up at the store. “Where’d these come from?”

“I went into town. Bought us supplies. Got cruised.” JC glanced up at him. “Turned him down.” JC looked back down at the magazines.

“I can’t believe you read this crap.”

“Gotta stay informed, C. Knowledge is power, you know.” Which was true, but Lance didn’t read those magazines anymore. He’d bought them for JC.

JC lay on the couch and read _Us_ and drank his coffee. Lance read the financial pages and drank his smoothie.

JC sat up suddenly. “I’m going swimming,” he announced.

“Okay. Don’t forget sunscreen.”

Lance was on the phone when JC came out in his shorts. Lance’s eyes flickered over his chest, followed the little line of hair leading down from his navel. He sighed.

“Did you put on sunscreen?” Lance hollered from the deck when JC was halfway across the beach.

“I always wear sunscreen,” came the faint reply.

He turned back to his phone conversation. “Sorry. Yeah, dude, he’s doing okay. Yeah, just okay. Too skinny and white as a sheet and between you and me, I think he’s been kinda lonely and depressed.”

“God, I hate to think of C depressed,” said Joey. “He just shouldn’t be. It’s so wrong.”

“He’ll be okay. I’m cheering him up, so he doesn’t stand a chance. Hey, Joe,” Lance said slyly, “He says he’s trying to make some ‘very important decisions.’ What do you think about that?”

“Lance.” Joey’s warning was evident in his voice.

“Oh, come on,” Lance hissed. “For fuck’s sake, Joe, you know the boy’s gay.”

“I don’t know that and you don’t know that, and I can’t believe you of all people are buying into stereotypes. Where JC falls on the spectrum of sexual orientation is known only to JC and what he chooses to do about it is 100% up to him.”

“Dude,” said Lance. “Who are you and what have you done with my good friend Joey Fatone?”

“Don’t mess with him, Lance,” Joey said. “Especially if he’s having a hard time.”

“Oh, all right. Jeez, I wouldn’t do anything to screw him over or anything, Joe. He’s my friend too, you know.”

“I know,” said Joey. “But I also know what you’re like when you set your sights on someone. Just, don’t forget it’s JC, and not some random guy you’re never gonna see again.”

Lance stared at the phone after he’d hung up. The dude had seriously killed his buzz. Dammit, when did Joey go and get all grown up and level-headed and self-righteous? He kinda missed the guy who'd egg him on no matter what, then one-up him just for the hell of it. Lance leaned on the railing of the deck, watching JC bobbing around in the surf. He looked so small out there, just a tiny man in the vast, rolling ocean.

Fine, he thought irritably. Fine. He wouldn’t put the moves on JC. He’d let him continue to believe he was straight, for as long as he wanted to, or as long as he could pull it off.

God damn Joey.

*

Lance plopped the pitcher of margaritas down in the sand by JC’s hip.

“Hey, awesome!” JC smiled up at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Lance dropped his sunglasses down in front of him. “Thanks.” He put them on and Lance didn’t have to look at the crinkles any more or at the bright, beautiful blue of JC’s eyes, and that was good, since he was on the new program of _not coming on to JC._

“I probably shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach though,” JC said sadly. Lance pulled a sandwich out of his bag and tossed it to JC, turkey on wheat, no mayo, lots of green stuff. JC peeked between the slices of bread, found nothing to alarm him and took a bite. Lance poured himself a margarita, sipping it in silence, staring out at the ocean.

“Everything okay?” JC asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re pretty quiet,” JC said around a bite of sandwich.

“Just in a quiet mood, I guess.” He rummaged around in the bag, pulled out God Is Not Great and put it down next to JC and his own book, a gay detective novel by a writer he really liked.

“Thanks,” said JC, flipping to the page he’d bookmarked. He was over halfway through. Lance guessed he must have been serious when he said he was interested in spiritual matters, even though he had been staring at Lance’s cock at the time.

They sat and read their books and JC ate his sandwich, except, Lance noted, for the crusts. He’d have to remember to cut the crusts off next time. And then he rolled his eyes at himself, because there was no way that he was so far gone on Chasez that he was going to cut off his fucking crusts.

Except he totally would.

“Would you do my back?” JC asked, cutting into his thoughts.

“What?”

“My back, dude. I can’t reach.” JC was holding out the sunscreen.

Lance took it and sat up, squeezing some out onto his palm. He looked nervously at JC’s back, broad and pale and flawless, narrowing down to his slinky little hips and his tight, round little ass and shit. He took a breath and spread the sunscreen over JC’s shoulders. They were already turning a little pink.

“You’re so pale,” said Lance. “Don’t you go outside anymore, C?”

JC scoffed. “Of course I do. I’m just more careful now. Tanning is unhealthy. This is my natural coloring.”

“Your natural coloring is white as a corpse?” Which wasn’t really fair. JC’s skin was gorgeous. Lance just couldn’t help giving him shit.

“Shut up,” mumbled JC, but there wasn’t any heat to it, probably because the application of sunscreen had somehow turned into more of a back rub. Lance wasn’t sure how that had happened.

He squeezed out more sunscreen and worked his way down toward the waistband of JC’s board shorts, which were far too baggy and concealing, even when wet. When he got down as low as he could go without actually getting into JC’s pants, he worked his fingers a couple inches down inside, just to be sure he didn’t get burnt if the waistband shifted. JC wriggled his hips a bit when Lance’s fingertip rode the curve at the top of his butt, but it wasn’t like he was trying to move away. It was like he was – he couldn’t be turned on, could he?

“Thanks,” said JC when he was done. “Do you want me to do you?”

 _Oh yes, please_ , thought Lance. _I really do_. But he just handed JC the sunscreen and said “Sure.”

Lance stretched out on his stomach. He almost regretted coming out here, because having his hands all over JC and JC’s hands all over him was not the best way to stick to his resolution to not have sex with JC.

He felt JC’s fingertip touch his shoulder blade, then trace lightly along the edge of his tattoo.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

“A bit,” said Lance. JC traced all along the outline of it. “Not too bad. You ever want one, C?”

“Mm hm. Couldn’t do it though.”

“No.” Lance was feeling sleepy, the sun, the margaritas, JC’s finger moving slowly over his skin… “Maybe you could if you were unconscious.”

“Not even then.” He thought he felt JC’s breath puff against his back, but maybe it was just the breeze. “This is sexy, Lance. So sexy.”

“Really?” That was cool, that JC thought his tat was sexy. He’d figured maybe it would just freak him out or something. The tat _was_ sexy. He’d taken a poll and the response had been unanimous.

JC was rubbing the sunscreen on now and giving him a damn good massage at the same time. “Feels good, C,” he mumbled and the next thing he knew JC was shaking him awake and there were big, dark clouds in the sky and it looked like it was about to rain really, really hard.

“Dude, we fell asleep,” said JC. “I think there’s gonna be a hurricane.”

“It’s not a hurricane, it’s just gonna rain, JC. Don’t worry about it,” Lance said, looking up at the sky. He’d read up on cloud formations and weather patterns and he thought the chance of a hurricane unlikely.

And it wasn’t a hurricane, but it was a hell of a rainstorm, so they stayed in and Lance made pasta and they watched TV until the electricity went out. Lance found a lantern under the kitchen sink and JC rounded up candles from the rest of the house and they sat on the couch in the flickering light and drank tequila and talked about the other guys since they weren’t there. And then JC started singing and after a while Lance joined in and they sang a couple songs in between doing tequila shots and wondering if their bungalow was going to get washed away because it really was raining like a bastard. And then, out of the blue, JC sat forward and fixed Lance with a piercing stare and said:

“Dude. Would you have sex with me?”

Lance blinked at him and he thought he was probably doing a decent imitation of a goldfish, but really. _What the fuck?_

“JC. This isn’t just cuz you’re worried about the storm, is it?”

JC laughed. “What, like ‘oh my God, we’re gonna die, quick, fuck me now, Lance’? Ha ha ha. No, it’s not about the storm, duder.”

“But you’re straight. You’ve been saying for years that you’re straight.”

“Yeah, but I’m really a little bent. Not as bent as you, cuz you’re like totally bent _over_ , dude. But I’m more bent that I let on.”

Lance wasn’t sure about that. He thought JC came across as pretty bent, but he didn’t feel the need to point that out at the moment.

“So, have you ever had sex with a guy?” If he hadn’t would it matter? He could hear Joey’s voice in his head telling him not to screw with JC.

“Depends on what you mean by sex,” said JC, with a secret little smile.

“I mean sex, JC. I’m not playing with semantics here. Hand job, blowjob, fucking and all the various permutations on those themes.”

“Well, then, yeah, I have.” JC took another swig of tequila. “And I liked it. And I want to do more of it. With you.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked. “C, be sure, because I don’t want to fuck things up, okay?”

“It won’t fuck things up, Lance. I won’t let it, and neither will you.” That much was true.

JC scooted closer, leaning right into Lance, his hand sliding along Lance’s cheek and curling behind his head.

_Oh fuck_ , thought Lance. _Joey is gonna be so pissed._

*

They ended up making out on the sofa for a really long time, JC sprawled on top of Lance, all long legs and pointy elbows and Lance didn’t recall JC being that much taller than he was, but when he was squirming all over him it seemed like his arms and legs went on forever. They were sweating and panting and Lance could feel JC’s cock hard against his thigh and JC’s slinky little hips humping into him and JC’s perfect little butt flexing under his hand and wow it was good, especially when JC kissed him, because it turned out JC was a really good kisser and apparently he liked to do it a lot because they’d been doing nothing but kissing for about an hour. Usually Lance was more direct, more of a cut-to-the-chase, goal-oriented kind of guy. A little tongue was nice and friendly to get things started, but then he tended to focus on the main event. JC’s lips kept distracting him though, because they were pink and pretty and soft and he couldn’t seem to help himself from diving back in for more every time he pulled away to try to move things forward.

“C,” he said, licking over JC’s puffy bottom lip, all flushed and shiny and kind of inhumanly attractive, like the rest of him. “C. You’ve gotta – mmm,” as JC ground his hard on against Lance’s thigh. “Baby, you’ve gotta tell me what you want to do.”

“I dunno, Lance.” JC’s voice was muffled in Lance’s neck, which he was enthusiastically nipping and sucking. Lance arched his neck back, giving him room. “Whatever you want.”

Bad answer, Lance thought, because what he wanted was to pin JC to the couch right now and fuck him so hard he wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, and somehow Lance doubted that was the kind of gay-curious experience JC was looking for.

“Dude, no,” said Lance. JC leaned up on his hand, looking down at him, and Lance dragged his eyes off of JC’s mouth so that he could focus on what he wanted to say. “You have to tell me, C. I need to know – you know, how far you want things to go.”

“I want to do anything,” JC said. “Everything. I trust you, Lance.”

“You want to do the really gay stuff?” Lance asked. “Or just the sort of gay stuff?”

JC rolled his eyes. “I think it’s all pretty gay if I’m doing it with you.” JC smiled at him and it kind of made something in Lance’s stomach twist into a knot because he looked like he was having fun and it occurred to Lance, and not for the first time, that maybe a little gay sex was just what Chasez needed. “I never figured you’d be so hesitant, dude.”

Lance pressed his lips together. He didn’t think ‘hesitant’ was a word that anyone would have used to describe him before now. “I’m trying to be careful, JC.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m not gonna change my mind. You can do what you want, Lance. I want –” JC’s face turned a little pink. “I want you to.”

Lance pulled JC back down on top of him so that their bodies were pressed together again and, damn, that really shouldn’t feel so good. He slid his hand down the front of JC’s baggy shorts, and wrapped it right around his cock, hard and hot, fitting into his palm just perfectly. JC gasped and jerked and his fingers dug into Lance’s shoulders.

“Can I touch you here, C?” Lance whispered into his ear.

“Mmm hmm,” JC said, only it came out more like a strangled whimper. Lance stroked him a couple of times and yeah, kissing was good, great even, but this was better, JC quivering and moaning and just kind of draped over Lance like he was melted onto him. He slid his free hand into JC’s hair and put his mouth on his ear.

“Can I suck it?” he whispered.

“ _OhGodyesplease_ ,” JC gasped, arching into him, thrusting into Lance’s hand. He could feel JC tense, his hips taking the tempo to double time. “Please, Lance.”

“Can I fuck you?”

“ _Ohhh_ ,” groaned JC, his hips stuttering, coming all over Lance’s hand. He shuddered hard, his fingernails digging into Lance’s skin right through his shirt, before he collapsed onto him, breathing like he couldn’t get enough oxygen in his lungs. Lance could feel JC’s heart pounding against his chest. He threaded his fingers through JC’s hair, doing his best to mess it up.

“I take it that’s a yes?” Lance asked, a smile in his voice.

JC made a contented little noise and waved his middle finger lazily at Lance.

*

JC was, Lance decided, definitely amenable to being fucked. They had moved to the bedroom, lost their clothes and he had JC spread out on his belly, two fingers buried deep inside him and JC was moaning and wriggling his slinky little hips in such a way that it really didn’t leave much question in Lance’s mind.

“You’ve really never done this before?” Lance asked somewhat incredulously, curling his fingers and rubbing over JC’s prostate, watching the muscles in his back bunch up and his ass lift off the bed.

“Depends,” JC blurted. “Fuck, Lance. _Fuckfuckfuck_.”

“In a minute, C. Depends on what?”

JC inhaled just as Lance pressed down again and he sort of choked, moaning and coughing at the same time, his ass tightening up nicely around Lance’s fingers.

“Dude,” gasped JC. “I’ve been fucked. Just not by a guy.”

Lance blinked. Whoa. That was some mental image. “Sooo…” he said. “That means…”

“Girl. With a strap-on. Or girls, actually. More than once.” JC turned and looked at Lance over his shoulder. “Oh man, you should see your face. I can’t believe I actually shocked you!” He burst out laughing, sort of hiccuping and gasping when Lance wriggled his fingers before withdrawing them. He rubbed softly over JC’s hole, and that made him stop laughing and sigh and spread his legs wider. “Told you,” JC murmured. “I’m a little bent.”

Lance leaned down so that he was covering JC. “Hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, dude,” said Lance, biting JC’s earlobe. “But that’s more than a little.”

“Whatever.” JC tilted his ass up. He turned his head to look at Lance and their eyes met. “You gonna fuck me now?”

“Oh yeah,” said Lance. “I certainly am.”

JC was insanely, unimaginably tight, which made Lance go really slow so that he didn’t lose it when he was only halfway there. JC kept telling him he was okay and urging him on, but he still tried climb up the bed when Lance finally worked himself all the way in. Lance held onto him though and gasped out what he hoped were soothing little words, but what he said was more along the lines of _oh baby oh fuck so good, so good C – God, just, still, hold still baby, just – a minute, oh fuck C_

He reached around, groping for JC’s cock, somewhat surprised to find him still mostly hard, or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. This was JC, after all. He pressed his face to JC’s neck and jerked him with a quick, practiced rhythm, until he was really hard, his ass pulsing softly in time with Lance’s hand and then he jerked him some more, until JC’s breath was coming fast and his hips started moving and Lance nearly bit through his lip in the effort to hold still, thinking about space and mathematical calculations and the article he’d read that morning about the Mars Rover, which was the kind of stuff he always thought about when he was buried in someone’s ass and trying not to come. He trembled and panted and held still and let JC figure out how he wanted to move, since moving was something JC had always known how to do better than pretty much anyone Lance had ever met, and this was no exception, the tentative, experimental rocking he started out with soon morphing into surprisingly full-on fucking motions (although maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising – this was JC, after all) accompanied by desperate-sounding moans and breathless gasps as he impaled himself again and again onto Lance’s cock. Lance decided he’d had enough of being selfless and letting JC take his time, he was damn well going to fuck him through the mattress and he had a feeling JC was going to be perfectly okay with that because he was whining _LanceLanceLance, please_ and begging most convincingly for him to move.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Just. C. Okay. Hold on – or something.” Jeez, thought Lance. He usually managed to be way more together during sex. JC was kind of frying his brain without really even trying, but it’s not like it was much of a surprise to Lance because this was JC, after all.

All it took Lance was one thrust in and out to realize that the combined power of math and space and science were not going to be enough to distract him from the way JC’s ass clutched at his dick like it didn’t ever want to let go and the way JC’s body felt beneath him, hard and soft and sweat-damp and moving, moving, moving and the noises JC was making, like Lance was hurting him in the best way possible.

“Okay? C, you okay?” Lance gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and praying JC said yes, because he didn’t know if he could stop.

“ _Godyes._ ” JC shoved back hard and Lance nearly bit off the tip of his tongue and ow, fuck. “Don’t stop. God, Lance, please don’t stop.”

“Unh unh,” said Lance, his enunciation hampered by lust and his injured tongue. “Ont sopping.”

C had said he was okay, so Lance grabbed his wrist and brought JC’s hand to his dick and let him take over so he could get a solid grip on his hips and give it to him good. Which he proceeded to do until JC was fucked down onto the mattress, crying out at every thrust, rocking his sweet little ass up and clutching at the sheets and sort of writhing lewdly about. Really, thought Lance, it was just too fucking _much_ , as he slammed into him one last time and came with a ragged groan, grinding in deeper, as deep as he could, his cock throbbing in the tight sheath of JC’s ass, and everything went wildfire-hot, sparkly bursts of red and white dancing on the back of his eyelids.

He gasped a shuddery breath, coming back to himself. JC was still, his face buried in the pillow. Lance withdrew carefully but JC moaned anyway and Lance grimaced because he knew that feeling was kind of hard to get used to.

“Turn over,” he growled, his voice frayed, nudging at JC’s hip and he did and Lance swallowed him down and shoved two fingers inside him and just like that JC shuddered once and arched up with a shout, erupting into Lance’s mouth and Lance moaned a little because, Jesus, _hot_. He sucked on JC until he relaxed into a floppy-limbed heap on the bed, until JC’s gentle hand in his hair sort of pushed him away and then he kissed his way up JC’s body until he could see his face.

“Okay, C?” JC looked okay. He looked totally blissed-out, in fact.

“Yeah,” he sighed, rubbing his knuckles along Lance’s jawline. Lance lay down beside him and rested his hand on JC’s skinny, pale stomach.

“Did you like that?” he asked.

JC looked at him for a moment and then he smiled and then he snorted and then he dissolved into a fit of giggles.

“No,” he gasped. “It totally sucked. Jeez, Lance, gay sex is such a bummer.” He rolled onto his side and met Lance’s frown and then he was off again.

“ _You_ suck, dude,” said Lance.

JC wiped his eyes. “Not yet, cat. But I could. I might totally suck at it though.” He grinned. “At sucking, I mean. So you, um. You’d probably have to teach me.” JC darted forward and kissed his lips. “I might require a lot of instruction.”

Lance smiled at him, his full-wattage crazy-bright smile. He knew C could take it. “Oh baby,” he sighed. “That is _so_ not a problem.”

*

In the morning they were relieved to discover that the bungalow had not washed away in the storm and the electricity was back on and the tequila had given them only the mildest of hangovers. They grinned kind of stupidly at each other through sleepy eyes and then Lance went down on JC and JC jerked Lance off and then they got up and went for a swim. Lance wanted to lie in the sun, but JC needed coffee so they headed back up to the house.

JC laid on the couch reading People and Lance stood at the counter reading Us because he didn’t have a newspaper to read and he didn’t think he could concentrate on his novel with JC right there and thoughts of everything they’d done and everything they still had yet to do swirling around inside his head.

When the coffee was ready he brought a cup over to JC and they ended up sitting on the couch with JC leaned back against Lance’s chest pretty much like they had been in the limo leaving Vienna. It wasn’t as if he and JC had never cuddled up together before. They were all a pretty physical group of guys and back in the day there had been a lot of snuggling and cuddling and even some furtive dry-humping, though that was mainly Chris and sometimes Joey if he was really drunk. The point being that it wasn’t anything new and different to feel JC pressed against him, except Lance couldn’t fool himself because it was.

 _Don’t mess with him, Lance_ echoed in his head, and damn that fucker Joey. He was going to kick his ass for that.

“Stop worrying,” said JC, tilting his head back to look at Lance out of the corner of his eye.

Lance raised an eyebrow at him because he’d never realized before that JC was psychic.

“I can hear you worrying about me, Lance,” JC said. “And you don’t have to. I’m a big boy, you know. I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, C,” Lance said, rubbing his palm over the soft skin on the inside of JC’s arm. “But it doesn’t hurt to let someone else take care of you every once in a while. That’s what friends are for, right?”

JC sipped his coffee. Lance kissed his temple and ran his tongue along the shell of his ear, smiling when he felt JC shiver. God, this was going to be a good week.


End file.
